


The Fall of Penelope Bunce

by SomeRandomOakTree



Series: The Rise and Fall of Penelope Bunce [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Agatha Wellbelove appreciation squad, Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Chosen One!Penny, Female Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, How many canon divergences can I cram into a single fanfic, Human Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, I just love italics, Lucy Salisbury Lives, Multi, Sayonara you bastard, The mage is fucking dead, and em dashes, hell yeah, my first big fic, wish me luck yall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeRandomOakTree/pseuds/SomeRandomOakTree
Summary: Penelope Bunce is quite a decent Chosen One, ask anyone. Smart as a whip and determined as hero, she has always handled her problems with her sword in hands and her head raised high. With the help of her weird group of friends, she's sure to solve all the problems of the World of Mages (at least that's what her mum, the headmistress of Watford, likes to tell people).But on her seventh year at Watford, things start to get messy. The Inscrutable Entity keeps sending more and more monsters on her way, and Visiting season is just around the corner. Now, with a new mystery to solve and more on her hands than she's ever had to deal with, Penelope Bunce is expected to save the World of Mages. Even if that means having to deal with a ridiculously powerful creature that eats magic and trying to control her uncontrollable powers.---Chosen One!Penny AU with a good deal of changes to the original plot.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Agatha Wellbelove, Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: The Rise and Fall of Penelope Bunce [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804870
Comments: 20
Kudos: 34





	1. Controlling magic: a work in progress

**Author's Note:**

> I promise the other chapters are better.

**Simon**

"Where's Penny?" I ask, barging in the library.

Agatha tucks her wand behind her ear.

"She's in her room." She looks concerned, and that’s enough to send me running.

I run up the stairs at Cloister's. I’m already out of breath from running around the entirety of Watford. The uneven stone steps seem endless, and by the time I get to the top, the spiral staircase has left me dizzy.

However, there’s no time to regain my balance, so I run down one of the long, claustrophobic corridors. _Fuck_ , _wrong corridor._ My feet skid on the stone floor as I turn around and enter the right corridor.

Two girls, clearly wondering what a boy is doing at Cloister's Cove, have to jump apart to make way for me.

"Thanks!" I shout.

I’m thankful to every existing god that Penny found out a spell that allowed me to enter her dorm. I had to cast it, though. It was a bad day for Penny's magic. She’d once said that, on bad days, her magic feels wonky. As if it's not her own. I guess it’s the burden of being the Chosen One.

Even if I didn't remember which door is Penny's, I would have guessed it from the horrid smell of smoke. I barge in, not even bothering to knock. My chest immediately tightens.

Seating at the floor, leaking magic, is Penny. Her red-rimmed glasses are thrown on top of her bed along with her school blazer. Her hands rub her eyes as she desperately tries to control herself. She looks up at me. There’s a red mark on her cheek, probably from her ring. She’s tense, trying her best to keep the magic in.

I'll never get used to seeing her like this.

Penny is like a bomb, but a very slow one. When she gets to her limit, it’s almost impossible to stop her from exploding. But the process takes a while. After a lifetime of trying to control herself, she had learnt a few tricks. But this is a bad day; and bad days are always, well, bad.

I kneel down next to Penny, slowly raising a hand towards her.

"I'm not a wounded animal, you know?" Penny says.

"I know." I brush away some strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead that escaped from her ponytail.

"Gross," I joke, wiping my hand on my trousers.

" _You're_ gross." The corners of her mouth tug upwards, but she still won't take her eyes off the floor. 

"You don't have to be embarrassed. You've seen me after the merwolf incident. You don't have to be embarrassed in front of me.” I’m rambling now. “I mean, the entire _year_ doesn't have to be embarrassed in front of me. I’ve no dignity left." I put my hand on her shoulder, immediately getting brushed off.

"Go away, Simon. It's dangerous."

"You're not dangerous," I chide. "And don't look at me like this, I won't accept this excuse."

Her shoulders slump. I’ve won.

“Breathe with me.” I take her hand and bring it to my shoulder. “One, two, three,” I count, making sure to exaggerate my breathing motions. 

Penny, bless her soul, is able to control her magic. Now, the last step of the _“Calming Penny down, a simple guide for beginners,”_ is to check if she’s okay with a hug.

“Can I hug you?”

Penny nods.

I throw my arms around Penny, trying my best to hold her tight enough to make her feel safe, but not too tight so that she feels suffocated. She buries her face in the crook of my neck, breathing in and out. The smell of my magic always seemed to help her calm down. She once said it reminded her of something brown and sweet, like brownies. I spell her window open.

Slowly, the smell of smoke recedes. How long did it take? Probably a few minutes, but it might as well have been an hour. The late-morning sun enters the room from the open window, bathing everything in a warm light. 

Penny leaves my embrace, eyes full of emotion.

"Thank you, Simon." She stretches out her arm to pick up her glasses.

I get up, offering Penny my hand to pull her up. She takes it.

Penny sighs, dusting off her skirt. “What time is it?”

“Er…” I look out the window. “Almost lunchtime, probably.”

“Then we have to go, don’t we? Can’t miss those scones.” She tries to crack a smile, but it looks more like a grimace.

“I’ll meet you there. I have to see if Baz hasn’t messed with my secret chocolate stash.” Ah, yes. Half-arsed humour to try and lighten the mood. 

“It’s not a secret stash if he knows where it is.”

I wave her off, walking out of the room. 

The final step of the guide is to leave Penny alone after comforting her. Like all the other steps, it is very important. She can’t handle too much vulnerability at once, which, understandable.

I should write a book on how to be a good hero sidekick.

I walk to my room, spelling the door open with my wand. It used to be my father’s, but mum gave it to me after he died. My mum, Lucy, is the best thing in my life. Maybe with the exception of cook Pritchard’s sour cherry scones.

As expected, Baz is in the room at the moment. Studying, as usual. 

“Snow,” he acknowledges me.

I make a vague sound in response and throw myself onto my bed, being secretly delighted when I bounce on the mattress. 

I look around the room. _Nicks and Slick,_ I really need to clean my side of the room. There are clothes thrown across the floor (which is probably driving Baz insane, the neat freak). I can’t even find my Watford football team jersey amid all the mess. If I can’t even find that green and purple striped monstrosity, how can I expect to find anything else?

The thing that catches my eye, though, is a single mint Aero bar wrapper, unceremoniously laid in the carpet.

_“Baz.”_

“Did you say something?” Baz turns around on his chair.

“You ate my chocolate!” I say, sitting up to give Baz an incredulous look.

“I most certainly did _not_.” He’s unnaturally calm. So he really ate my chocolate. That weirdly calm voice is his tell. After seven years of living with someone, it’s hard not to learn almost everything about them. 

_“Ha!”_

“ _Ha_ what?”

“You did eat it!” I give him my best attempt at a smirk. Judging by Baz’s expression, it probably looks like shit.. 

“And how would you know?”

“I know you’re lying. You have a tell.”

“You’re delusional.”

In response, I simply throw the wrapper at Baz.

“At least throw it in the trash, you absolute nightmare.” Baz offers me the wrapper. 

Huffing, I take the wrapper from his hand. The tips of our fingers touch, and I feel a weird tug in my stomach. Must be hunger. It’s nearly lunchtime, after all.

I leave the room, depositing the wrapper at Baz’s bed as a form of protest.

* * *

I meet the girls at the dining hall, seating at our usual table. I walk to our table with a serving of shepherd’s pie and a smaller plate sporting a tiny pile of sour cherry scones.

“Hey,” Agatha says to me, raising a glass of water to her mouth.

I raise my eyebrows at Agatha. _How is she?_

Agatha responds with an almost imperceptible nod and a tight-lipped smile. _Not that bad._

Penny does look a lot better, thank Merlin. Her eyes are no longer bloodshot and her hair is back in a tight ponytail. Unfortunately, she is just picking at her food. Going off (or almost going off) tends to increase her appetite, but lately she’s been acting weirdly. Monster attacks are getting more and more frequent, and she is compulsively studying every single magickal creature in hope of being prepared for every attack the Inscrutable Entity could do.

The Inscrutable Entity, literally meaning mysterious creature, is… mysterious. Nobody knows what he is or what he wants to do. We don’t even know if it’s a he. It could be an it or a she, for all we know. No one has ever seen the Entity.

“Penny, did you do the Elocution homework? I kind of forgot to write that paper and... ” I scratch the back of my neck.

The look she sends me is enough to shut me up.

“How many times have I told you?” she says, exasperated. “You have to try and do everything the day the teachers assign you the homework.”

“Okay, but if any of you just lent me your papers—”

A blood-freezing scream startles the entire dining hall. It seems to come from the courtyard. 

The three of us look at one another, and we know what to do.

Me and Agatha draw our wands. Penny runs first, already summoning the sword of mages. We run after her.

We cross the massive wooden doors and get outside, ready for a fight.

  
  



	2. Stop raising your eyebrows and do something useful for once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire, blood and useless friends. Penny has gotten herself into trouble again...

**Penelope**

Cold raindrops hit my cheeks like pinpricks. My heart beats with every step I take, as I run towards another fight.

Simon and Agatha fall into step with me, both with their wands at ready. While Simon’s eyes shine with determination, Agatha looks more annoyed than anything. But yet, here she is. Ready to fight with us.

In the middle of the courtyard stands a peculiar creature. A lion with a goat’s head coming out of its back and a tail that ends in a snake’s head. A cloud of steam surrounds the monster, growing each time fire comes out of its mouth.

A chimaera. How wonderful.

I tighten my grip on the Sword of Mages, racking my brain to remember anything I’ve read about the monster, but the chimaera runs towards me before I can think of anything.

I jump out of the way, falling to the ground. Wet grass clings to my skirt. I look at Simon and Agatha, who circle the chimaera from opposite directions. 

I run towards the chimaera, slashing its middle with my sword. It’s fruitless—the sword bounces back as if the monster's skin were metal.

Simon desperately shoots spells. 

**“Bugger off! Off with your head! Guts for garters!”**

The chimaera breathes fire in his direction, but he drops to the ground right on time.

Our fight is already making a commotion. A swarm of students look down from the school towers, pointing and gasping. Where are the teachers?

 **“Kindly fuck off!”** Agatha shouts from behind the monster.

The chimaera whips its tail, the snake's mouth hitting Agatha in the head.

 _“Agatha!”_ I feel my magic bubble up with my anger. That’s it. I can't let this monster hurt them. “Distract him, Simon!” Simon nods.

He shoots spells at the chimaera. None of them actually do any harm, they're just really annoying. And that’s exactly what I want.

I run to the creature, slightly crouching to reach its belly. I drive the sword into the soft cream fur. The chimaera roars, irritated. But instead of reaching an internal organ, the sword only leaves a minor gash. Blood drips into my hair, hot and wet. I grimace, promptly running from my spot.

Simon dodges another string of fire, running to my side. 

“What now?” He gasps, already out of breath.

“I don’t know.” The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. “The sword doesn’t work!”

“Spells also don’t.” He tugs at his hair. “What if—”

Simon is interrupted by Agatha, who groans as she tries to lift herself from the ground. Twin scratches adorn her cheek, bloody and caked in mud. The snake’s teeth. I hope the snake isn’t venomous. 

We help Agatha stand up, scrambling out of the chimaera’s reach. Simon grabs Agatha’s arm and runs away towards the Wavering Woods. Her face looks greenish and her eyes are out of focus. _Merlin and Morgana_ , it must have been venom.

The chimaera roars and lashes its tail around. Each dodge becomes increasingly more difficult. Sweat drips down my forehead. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my magic is leaking too much. The smell of smoke is almost unbearable, coming both from my magic and from the chimaera’s fire. 

The monster claws at me, and I drop to the ground. But it’s already too late. The sharp claws rip through my uniform, reaching the skin in my arm. I scream. The cut stings and, from the amount of blood that’s already staining my uniform, it’s deep. 

The chimaera towers over me. The smell of blood and smoke is overwhelming and the only thing I can think of is _don’t go off, don’t go off, don’t go off._

The chimaera opens its mouth.

 **“Your attention, please!”** The chimaera looks in the other direction. **“Stand your ground!”**

I take advantage of the monster’s distraction and get out of there. I run to Simon and get a proper view of the caster of the spell.

_Basilton Pitch._

I almost roll my eyes, but then I remember that he is the one who saved my life. Baz Pitch, my rival for top of the class, the son of the incredible Natasha Pitch, the only one of friends with whom I can have intellectual debates.

The boy who currently looks like he’s reevaluating all his life choices.

“What did you do this time?” he asks, running up to us. The question sounds like it’s directed to all of us, but he’s looking at Simon.

“Nothing!” Simon answers.

“Are you really sure?”

“We don’t have time for that!” I put my hand over my cut, wincing at the sharp pain. “The spell’s going to wear off soon.”

Simon looks at her arm. “Want me to heal that?

I nod.

Simon points his wand to my arm. **“Get well soon!”**

The feel of Simon’s magic envelops me, warm like a campfire and smelling like freshly-baked brownies. The cut closes a little, but not completely. I thank him.

“Weird.” Simon frowns at my arm.

“Do you have any ideas, Pitch?” I ask, turning to Baz.

“You don’t?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course I do, I’m just asking to be polite.” I gesture at the shitshow around us. “What do you think?”

The chimaera moves, violently turning around.

 _“Shit,”_ Simon swears.

We run in different directions, screaming at the monster to stop it from going on Agatha’s direction.

“Spit it out!” I shout at Baz, feeling my magic rise as my annoyance grows.

“Have you read the Greek myth?” 

I think I have, but I can’t remember how the story goes. I tell this to Baz.

“In the story,” he shouts, pausing to dodge the chimaera’s tail. “Bellerophon defeats the chimaera with a block of lead.”

“How are we supposed to get _lead_?”

"There has to be some spell."

I huff. If there is, then I don't know it. Why would anyone create a spell like that?

The monster runs towards us, heavy steps shaking the ground. We disband, each one of us running in different directions.

Baz summons fireballs and throws them at the monster while Simon shoots spell after spell. All it does is bother the chimaera.

Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I run to the chimaera, dodging the serpent's head. I slash at the tail with my sword. 

The sword cuts through the skin as if it were butter. The serpent's head falls off.

I scramble back, but the remaining tail swings at my face. The scaly, slimy skin hits my cheek with force, and I fall back. There's blood all over my uniform.

I pull myself up, and my injured arm screams at me.

A stray fireball wheezes past my ear. I curse at Baz. He ignores me.

Simon looks like he's running out of magic (I wonder how that feels), and I need to come up with a plan. There has to be some way to defeat the chimaera. 

I try to think of something, but the overwhelming feel of my magic is clouding my judgement. Everything seems blurred at the edges.

In a daze-like state, I look at Simon and Baz. When did Simon get that gash in his forehead?

Agatha is still on the sidelines, but she's risen to her feet. Struggling to stand up, her face bloody and greenish, she weakly throws pebbles at the monster. I don’t think the chimaera even notices her efforts, but I do.

Too fast, the supernova inside me grows. Someone screams. I don’t know if it’s me.

I explode.

A loud _boom_ tears through the air. An unstoppable wave of magic sweeps the area, blindingly bright. I think the chimaera has fallen, but I’m not sure. It’s like I’m combusting.

The explosion is over, but the ringing in my ears remains. I feel sick. 

I fall on my knees, clutching at the grass. 

Simon runs to help Agatha, and Baz heads towards me.

“You alright?” He helps me get up, and I lean on his side. My throat’s too dry for talking.

The chimaera is dead. We’ve won.

It should feel triumphant, but it doesn’t.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this I googled "word for a bitchslap but with claws" ... the verb I was looking for was "to claw". Having English as a second language is interesting, to say the least.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Have a great day, my friends :)


	3. Fuck the chimaera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fight. Supernatural events. A new murder mystery. The time for Baz to do something has come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I did the final edits of the chapter on my little sister's tablet, and it was hell. It capitalized all the words! W h y. I think I've fixed all of them, but if you still find randomly capitalized letters, I'll be glad if you point it out)

**Agatha**

As soon as the fight is over, I drop to my knees.

After getting out of my system the little bit of lunch I had time to eat, going to the infirmary seems like a great idea. I’m tired. So tired. Tired of having to kill creatures, tired of getting hurt and tired of seeing my friends get hurt. 

My vision blurs, but I can still see Penny and Baz’s outlines and a big lump in the ground that I assume is the chimaera, for obvious reasons. Tiny shapes are running out of Watford’s many buildings. 

“Agatha.” Simon holds me by the shoulders, searching my eyes. 

I know Penny and Baz are also talking to me, but everything is a bit muffled, like I’m underwater.

Suddenly, I’m raised to the air, floating towards the school. Penny, Simon and Baz run along with me, keeping me in the right direction.

My vision goes black before I can even see the infirmary.

**Baz**

The three of us sit at the infirmary, waiting for the nurses to be done with Agatha. Bunce has quite a nasty cut in her arm, one that Snow couldn’t completely heal. Every visible part of her skin is littered with cuts and scratches. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Knowing her, it’s a possibility.

Snow, on the other hand, doesn’t look as much like he was used as a cat’s scratch post. Except for the gash on his forehead, that is. His uniform is slightly singed, and a few parts of his skin are red, burnt by the chimaera’s fire. I almost fall from my chair when I notice Snow is missing a chunk of his hair, also due to the fire.

If the chimaera were still alive, I would kill it with my bare hands.

Bunce and Snow look destroyed, though I suppose I don’t look much better. My uniform is incredibly muddied and grass-stained. The tips of my fingers are red and stingy, slightly burned. 

The nurses seem to be taking way too long with healing a cut. Isn’t it just a claw wound? Bunce got one and she seems fine. Well, as fine as one can be after fighting a bloody chimaera. Though Agatha did get hit in the face. Maybe she has a concussion? That could be it.

“Another one of the Entity’s monsters?” I ask.

Snow nods, while Bunce seems deep in thought.

"You, the boy with the burnt hair," a nurse says, pointing to Snow. "C'mere.'

Why she glossed over the cut on his face and focused on the hair is a mystery to me.

 _"Is she talking to me?"_ Snow whispers to me, leaning a bit too close for comfort. My ears are way too hot, and I’m immensely thankful that my hair covers them.

"Is _my_ hair burnt?"

Snow looks confused. "But mine isn't." 

I raise a brow. 

Snow slowly raises a hand to his hair, running it through the missing patch of hair. His eyes widen, but he doesn't say anything. He follows the nurse, playfully glaring daggers at me as he walks away into another room. _Sigh._ Isn’t he absolutely dreamy?

"Have you heard about the visitings?" Bunce asks, a few seconds after Snow leaves. 

"I heard Dev and Niall talking about them. Have you had any?"

"Nah." she waves her hand casually, though everything about her is tense. "The only interesting death in my family was my great-aunt Brenda, who died at a circus, and she never really liked me." Bunce doesn't elaborate on the story. 

"I see." There’s an awkward pause, which is quite rare for the two of us. Even when we’re silent, it’s never awkward. 

A nurse comes into the room to call her.

"Well, good luck." She looks back, smiling sadly at me. "I hope you get your visit."

"So do I, Bunce." 

* * *

I wake up to a faint whisper.

_“Baz.”_

It’s still dark, and it’s cold. So cold. for a second, I wonder if I have forgotten to close the window, but this cold can’t be natural. It’s a cold that seeps into my bones, that isn’t only physical, but also emotional. I didn’t know cold like this existed. 

I open my eyes.

_“I’m here, little puff.”_

I gasp, immediately sitting up.

As my eyes adjust to the dark, I begin to see a blurry figure. It’s standing in the middle of my room.

_Mother._

She begins to materialise properly, and I almost sigh in relief to see that I still remember what my mother looked like. She has the same dark skin as me. The same grey eyes. The same prideful posture, as if we owned the place. In mother’s case, that’s partially true. Even though Mrs Bunce is now the director of the school, Watford will always be mother’s in my eyes. 

_“I don’t have much time.”_

I suddenly regain my senses, springing to my feet. 

_“My killer walks. Find Nicodemus. Avenge my death.”_ Her tone is stern, but her eyes are full of sorrow. Sorrow and love.

“I will.”

 _“And, son."_ She tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. She is so cold, but I don't think I've ever felt this warm. _"I love you. You always make me proud."_

She kisses my temple and wraps her arms around me. I close my eyes, raising my arms to retribute to hug. She's fading.

_“My little puff…”_

She's gone, and I wrap my arms around myself. Warm tears trickle down my face.

She loves me. She's proud of me. She's gone.

And her killer is alive.

I try to suppress the sobs that wrack through my body. I have to find the bastard who killed her. 

"Baz." I feel a gentle had on my arm.

 _"Simon,"_ I whisper, not trusting my voice.

I try to look at him through the black curtain of hair falling on my eyes. I don't want him to see me crying.

Simon's sitting beside me on my bed. He has his arms raised.

I accept the hug, throwing myself at him. I don't care if I seem desperate. My mother's just asked me to avenge her death, I won't see her for a good twenty years (if at all), and the love of my life is offering me some comfort.

He firmly wraps his arms around me, letting me cling to him. I hold him tight, burying my head on his shoulder. 

Simon runs his hands through my hair, holding me close. He is such a solid presence. Simon is a constant. Always there, always warm, always full of life. _Crowley,_ he's so alive.

I don't even notice when I fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😏😏😏
> 
> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any and all comments. Talk about the story, send a pun or just scream about something nice that's happened to you! I'm awkward, but I love a good chat (you can also find me on Tumblr @saltyoaktree)
> 
> Have a great day!


	4. As Socrates would say, I know that I know bugger all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations happen, Baz acts like a total fool (as usual) and Simon makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Hooray!   
> God, this chapter took forever to edit. Can y'all believe I had already edited the next chapter but not this one??

**Penelope**

The wooden door is raspy beneath my hand, rugged from decades of existence. I take a deep breath, lifting my hand to knock on the door, but it opens before I can do so.

“Come in,” a voice says from the other side.

I open the door, entering the headmistress’ office. My mum’s office.

Mum sits behind her desk, rummaging through piles of papers and files. She only stops to look at me when I close the door.

“Take a seat, Penny.”

I pull a chair in front of her desk. 

“It was incredibly dangerous, what you did yesterday.” She directs me her signature disapproving glare. "You could have seriously hurt yourself."

“I didn't,” I argue.

“But you could have!” She sighs, rubbing a hand on her face. “Why do we keep having this conversation?”

“You’re the one who always starts it.” I take a deep breath. “You know I always do my best during fights and missions. It's not my fault my magic is uncontrollable.”

But what if it really is my fault? What if I don’t do my best? I decide to stay quiet and not undermine my own argument.

“I know you do, honey. But people are starting to doubt my anti-Entity program, and I can’t have all that unneeded interference disturbing my job.”

Of course. Of course this had to be the reason for all her worrying. Fucking politics.

“Thank you for your concern.” I get up from my seat, staring deep into her eyes. “But I have to visit Agatha now.”

I turn around, heading towards the door.

**Mitali Bunce**

My daughter leaves my office in a flurry, not bothering to say goodbye. The smell of smoke stays in the room.

I slump on my seat, looking up to the ceiling.

Maybe it didn’t have to be my daughter. Could I have found another way around the situation, if I had just tried harder? I suppose I’ll never know.

Sighing, I straighten my posture and get ready for another day of work.

* * *

**Penelope**

I visit Agatha after I leave my mum’s office. She’s still at the infirmary.

The infirmary’s quite a modern-looking room, compared to the rest of the school. While Watford is built on stone and wood, the infirmary is a regular room, with white walls and white tiles on the floor. It’s a fairly recent change—I remember it being way older in my first year (I’ve always spent far too much time here)—it probably hadn’t changed since back when they treated the flu with bloodletting.

Agatha’s currently the only one in the room. Except for me, that is. She’s sleeping, still looking a bit sickly, but her cuts have healed, only leaving two tiny scars on her face.  _ Merlin and Morgana _ , her mother is going to kill me. I need to find that magic anti-scar cream dad has in his office. I file that thought, making a mental note to remember that two months from now, during Christmas holiday.

**“Get well soon,”** I try, knowing that it probably won’t do anything more than what the nurses have already done. It actually works, making her scars slightly smaller.

My mum says using magic is like a well. It’s so deep that she can’t see or imagine the bottom of it, but it’s always there, as long as she keeps focused. And she’s always focused.

My problem isn’t the focus part, it’s the magic part. My magic is like a bomb, not a well. It’s either too much or not there. It feels  _ other _ , like it doesn’t belong to me. On good days, my focus is enough to execute simple spells, and it feels mine. While mum’s magic is like a deep well, my magic, on good days, is like one of those plastic pools you put in your yard when it’s too hot. It’s not much, but at least it’s there.

I once asked Simon what his magic felt like.

_ “Uh… I don’t really know,” he said, eloquent as always “it’s like a river with a dam, but I can open the dam whenever I want. But the magic just flows like a regular river instead of, like, overflowing and flooding everything. So it’s not quite like a river with a dam.” _

For obvious reasons, that didn’t help at all, so I asked Agatha. She told me that it was like flexing a muscle and keeping it flexed.

It didn’t help either.

But these days, when my magic works, I don’t need their explanations. These days almost make me believe that there’s a way to fix my magic, to help me defeat the Inscrutable Entity.

Almost.

* * *

**Agatha**

When I wake up, Penny’s sitting on a chair beside me, practising some spells.

"What happened yesterday?" Classic Penelope, always cutting to the chase. I used to find this rather rude, but I've gotten used to it.

I push myself up, sitting on the bed. I feel a lot better than I did yesterday, but my limbs are still a bit sore. I don't know if it's the venom or exertion from the fight.

"They healed my cuts. The two on my face were poisoned, so the nurses had to use more advanced spells." I try to avoid self-consciously touching my face. I don't want Penny to feel guilty, it wasn't her fault.

I try very hard not to resent her for every dangerous situation we've gone through. Sometimes it's hard, and I feel terrible for it. I just wish we could be Normal friends, doing Normal things. Is that too much to ask?

"I'll ask my dad for that anti-scar cream he has." She pushes her glasses up. "You could come to my house during the holidays."

"That's a great idea." I smile, still not quite feeling my face. It's a bit numb, especially around my cheek.

It turns out Penny's brought a clean uniform for me. I excuse myself to dress up, taking far too long in the lavatory. It takes me a while to remember an illusion spell to cover my scars.

I get out of the lavatory, then we go to breakfast together.

* * *

**Baz**

I awake in a pleasant haze, feeling the morning sun warm me up. My bed is warm and my pillow smells like the Watford-provided shampoo. 

It’s the first thing that ticks me off. Something isn’t right.

There’s no reason for my pillow to smell like this;I  _ loathe _ that shampoo. It doesn’t smell good and it dries up my hair so much that it feels like straw. Simon is the only sane person known to use that thing.

_ Oh. _

Last night’s events flood back to me, breaking me out of my sleepy haze. I don’t even know which topic to worry about first. Do I start planning to avenge my mother’s death? Do I overthink the way Snow comforted me? My head's spinning like the bloody wheel of fortune (Snow made me watch it the first time I visited him. His mum's rather fond of Normal things.)

I open my eyes, squinting at the brightness of the room. I woke up naturally, for once. Snow must have taken care not to stomp around the room. 

I hope he doesn't pity me after that whole ordeal.

I take a long shower, enjoying the peaceful sound of the falling water. I leave our room completely ready for class, already planning how to find that Nicodemus man.

* * *

I can feel Snow’s gaze burning holes into the back of my head the entire school day. I still won’t talk to him, because I’m a coward.

Dev and Niall were worried about me. They didn’t ask more than once, but I could see the concern in their faces. I avoided them too. 

But my reign of solitude couldn’t last that long. 

Snow corners me when we’re in our room.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He has his arms crossed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I’m serious.” I resist the urge to say  _ ‘And I’m Baz’ _ . “There’s no bloody reason for you to be avoiding me. We’re in this together!”

“Who’s saying we’re in this together? Because I’ve never said that.”

“I am.” He clenches his fists, as if he were readying himself for a physical altercation. 

“Why,” I ask, but it comes out too flat to sound like a question.

“Because I want to help!” He tugs at his hair. “I know how important this is to you and I don’t want you to face this alone.” He has a frown, and I desperately want to kiss it away.

“Alright.”

“And besides, it’s not like we’re in first fucking year! We’re not rivals or whatever the fuck we used to call each other—”

“I said alright, Snow,” I snap.

“Oh.” His face immediately softens. “Okay.”

There’s an awkward beat of silence.

“So when do we start?” He plops down on his bed, crossing his legs.

This question makes me pause, because I have no bloody idea of where to start. I’ve jotted down everything my mother said to me (as if I could ever forget anything she said,) but nothing came of it.

“We could go to the library,” I manage “and look at the school records.”

“We could  _ fine-tooth comb  _ the bloke’s name,” he says without magic.

“Nicodemus.” I sit at my own bed, opposite to him.

“Yeah, that guy.” Snow’s practically vibrating with energy. He’s so alive. “So do we have an agreement?”

“An agreement?” 

“Yeah, an agreement.” It feels like we’re two parrots trying to communicate. “You let me help you, and I… uh…” He looks to the side, and I can practically see the gears turning inside his head. “Help you.”

I want to hit myself in the head for finding his lameness so endearing.

“Deal?” He looks back at me.

I hold out my hand. “Deal.”

He grabs my hand, giving it a firm shake. His warm hand feels so good on my cold palm, and I feel a wave of disappointment when he lets go.

_ Merlin and Morgana _ , I’m pathetic.

* * *

We meet the next day at the library.

Surprisingly, I come to find out that he hasn’t told Bunce anything. He even asks me before he enlists her help. I say yes. Bunce might have problems controlling her magic, but she’s one of the most brilliant magicians of our generation.

And she’s also my friend, but I’m not going to say any of that out loud.

I’m amazed by how seriously Snow is treating our research. He doesn’t chat while we’re researching and he barely looks up from his book. He’s decided to read the entire book of mage records, since his  **fine-tooth comb** didn’t find anything. I doubt he’ll find anything if the spell didn’t either, but he’s determined to try.

The day Bunce joins us, we fetch her at the dining hall after classes to go to mine and Snow’s room. She tells us to go before her because she has some things to do, but I think it’s just because she doesn’t want us to find out how she gets in the boy’s dorms.

We cast  **see what I mean** to organize ourselves better.

“So here’s what we know.” She writes the words  _ what we know  _ in the air. “And here’s what we don’t.” She writes  _ what we don’t know _ , separating the two categories with a line.

“Nicodemus knows important information,” I say, walking up to our magickal board. “He isn’t in any of the Watford records, so maybe he wasn’t a student.”

“Or someone erased him from the records,” Bunce says.

“What could he have done to be erased from the Watford records?” Snow fidgets with his tie. “That thing goes way back to medieval times.”

I frown. “I reckon Watford was built in the modern ages.”

“Boys, focus.” Bunce puts her hand on her waist. “What else do we know?”

“About Nicodemus? Bugger all,” Snow says “and he must be pretty important if Mrs Pitch decided to mention him.”

“I think so too.” I wrack my hand through my hair, trying to think of something. “Maybe we should jump to what we don’t know.”

To my disappointment, but not to my surprise, this list is twice as long as the other one. We don’t know everything about him. What’s his last name? Is he a Normal, or did someone purposely erase him from the records? What could he possibly know about my mother`s death?

The evening is unproductive, and so are all the following weeks up until Christmas holiday.

  
  
  


  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the next chapter 👀. It's one of my favourites
> 
> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are very much appreciated. If you want, you can also find me on Tumblr @saltyoaktree
> 
> Have a wonderful day, friends! I wish you all the best.


	5. Coming out of my cage and HOLY SHIT THAT'S BLOOD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret party. An encounter. "That's gay, Simon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting from my phone, so please tell me if the formatting's weird.
> 
> God, this one was so fun to write
> 
> Me: I'd like to write a happy Carry On AU with no pain whatsoever!  
> Also me: the last half of this chapter

**Simon**

I hate parties.

I don’t know why I agreed to this. Agatha dragged us here, said it would be good for us to loosen up once in a while. We don’t need to loosen up, we need to defeat the Entity. Sometimes I wonder if she has her priorities straight.

We’re at an abandoned classroom in an obscure corner of Watford. Cobwebs dangle off the ceiling, some even sticking to students’ hair. I don’t know where they put the classroom tables, but even without them the place’s crowded. It’s impossible to walk around without being trampled by a swarm of sweaty teens (not that I'm not one of them).

Some student organized this, and it shows. There’s no food besides a few packets of crisps, and the only drink available is cheap beer. I have a cup in my hands, but it tastes gross and I don’t drink it. 

I turn to Baz, who’s leaning against a wall beside me. “This tastes like varnish.”

“And you know what varnish tastes like?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Fuck off, you know what I mean. It tastes like the smell of varnish.”

Baz stares at me like he didn't understand a single thing I said. 

Baz looks particularly fit this evening (and that’s totally a normal heterosexual thought). His jeans are perfectly fitted to his long legs, and his white button-up is neatly ironed. I wonder how he manages to be so perfect at all times. I’m wearing the school uniform.

Someone used a spell to make those colourful disco lights, and it’s the only good thing about this party. Colourful lights flitter across Baz’s face. Sometimes they go over his grey eyes and change their colour. Red, green, pink, blue… I want to keep watching, but I force my eyes away.

Agatha and Penny are dancing in another corner of the room. They spin together. Agatha’s light pink dress waves around, and Penny’s hair bobs wildly out of its usual ponytail. I smile.

It’s so good to see Penny having fun. Maybe Agatha wasn’t entirely wrong. Penny’s been taut since the fight with the chimaera. Like a guitar string. When I was young, and learning to play the guitar (I’m still a shite player) I used to snap my strings all the time. I’d try to tune the instrument, and I’d watch the string get tenser and tenser, until it snapped and hurt my fingers.

I don’t want her to snap.

But she seems fine right now, so I try not to dwell into it. 

I scan the crowd. There aren’t that many people here, but I can’t recognize half of the faces I see. Some are dancing (the people, not the faces), but most are standing awkwardly with their untouched drinks in hand. 

_Mr Brightside_ starts playing, and everyone goes batshit. I can’t judge them. I immediately perk up at the sound of those first notes.

“I hate this song!” Baz shouts, making himself heard over the loud music.

“I know!” I shout back, a smile on my face. 

Baz rolls his eyes.

The song keeps playing, and I awkwardly flail around to it. I can't dance. Baz, on the other hand, can—and I intend to make him dance. The first (and last) time I saw him dance, it was an experience. We were both off our faces, having a sleepover at his house with no adult supervision. We were listening to music, and he suddenly pulled me to a waltz. We waltzed to some eighties song I can’t remember, but Baz knew all the lyrics to. 

I keep nudging him, pulling on his arm and waving it around. He stays with his feet glued to the same spot, trying to look unamused by my antics. He’s failing miserably, but I don’t tell him that.

The song ends, and I couldn’t get him to dance. A shame, really.

“Wanna get out of here?” 

_“Yes.”_ Baz looks incredibly relieved.

I take him by the cuff of his button-up and we make way through the crowd, grabbing Penny and Agatha along the way. 

Once we get out of the room, we make our way to the football pitch. Starts pepper the night sky and the full moon is out, bathing everything in a white, yellowish light. The smell of grass reminds me of home ( _home_ home, not Watford home).

* * *

We run around the wet grass, drunk on our own laughter. Even Baz has dropped his cold facade, and his snorts could be heard all the way to London. The crisp wind is playing with his hair, and he looks… angelic, in a way.

Agatha’s dress has grass stains, and her shoes are left forgotten in a corner of the pitch. She’s the one who decided to play footie, and I can’t say it was a bad idea—it’s hilarious to see Penny and Baz fighting for the ball (even though they're in the same team). We decided it would best if Agatha were on my team, otherwise she and Baz would be an unstoppable force. Agatha plays lacrosse, and she’s surprisingly strong. Her footwork needs a lot of improvement, but it isn’t near as bad as Penny’s.

The ball is in my possession, and I’m running towards the goal when Penny tackles me. We hit the ground and the ball goes astray, only to be caught by Baz.

“Penny! This isn’t American football.” I laugh.

She opens her mouth to respond, but she never does. I feel a sudden emptiness, a pull in my stomach.

We blink out of the football pitch. The last thing I see is Agatha and Baz’s startled faces.

I open my mouth, but the words die in my throat.

* * *

**Penelope**

We land sprawled on the cold, wet ground. Simon curses, and I realize I had my elbow digging into his ribs.

I pull myself up, and the leaves littering the ground crunch under my weight. I look around, and I realize we’re in the Wavering Wood.

The trees huddle close to each other, and every direction looks the same. I look up. I can barely see the night sky behind the foliage over our heads. The chill of wind bothers me slightly. It’s the first thing that sets my danger alarms off. 

I turn to Simon, and it looks like he’s noticed something too. He takes his wand out of his blazer pocket.

Black and purple smoke comes rolling off in waves from the woods, coiling up around the trees. The woods are so dark, and the moon is so bright. My skin crawls. I can see just enough to know that there’s _something_ out there, but not enough to see what it is. But I know what’s lurking around.

Simon’s fingers lace between my own, holding tight. 

My ears clog up. The air is filled with a weird suction feeling. Beside me, Simon’s knees buckle, and he almost takes me down trying to hold himself up. Tiny colourful strings flutter around, all headed in the same direction. I follow them with my eyes.

It’s the Inscrutable Entity.

The Entity’s made entirely of smoke, but what looks like purple flames dance around the place where his waist should be. His eyes glow a vivacious red, jarringly contrasting with his face. Blocky features painted in smoke mold and fade in the air, forming a malicious smile and a slightly bumpy nose, much like Simon’s. 

As he gets closer, the air gets thicker. My head is pounding. I'm leaking the tiny bit of magic I have left, and the smell of smoke is almost unbearable. 

I quickly say the incantation to summon my sword, before I have no magic left. 

The Entity sneers. "A sword. How cute." His voice is distorted and far away, like he's talking through some kind of wall.

He sort of walks sort of floats closer.

"Run," I whisper to Simon. He just shakes his heads and grips my hand tighter.

Simon tries casting **stand your ground** , but it's no use. The Entity has already sucked all the magic in here. Everything is empty. Drained. But the Entity oozes magic, frighteningly full of it.

I force my hand out of Simon's grip and take a running start towards the Entity. I raise my sword.

I bring my sword down, cutting through air. I curse at myself. The Entity's made of smoke. Untouchable, undefeatable.

The Entity's getting stronger, and the air is so dense that I feel like my head is going to explode.

I grab Simon and we run.

We sprint through the dark forest. The few nymphs that are still visible scramble out of our way, knowing that they do _not_ want to interfere with whatever we're doing.

We stop at another clearing. My heart hammers in my chest, and Simon's gasping for air.

I look at his wand. Maybe we can work this out before the Entity comes closer.

"You'll cast _stand your ground_ ," I say without magic "and I'll do the other spell-"

I'm interrupted by a loud boom coming from behind me. A ripple of magickal energy hits me, making me stumble forward.

I fall to the ground, grazing my knees through my jeans. Simon runs to me. We can't stay here any longer—we have to leave the Wavering Wood and get somewhere. The Entity is only interested in me, so Watford should be safe if I were to run away. 

The Entity is near, and I feel like I'm melting. There's something hot and slimy on Simon's hands wetting my sleeves. Sweat runs down my face like a river. I've never sweat this much.

I look at Simon and scream.

Blood trickles down his face, coming out of every pore. His brown curls are glued to his forehead, red and bloody. His face is contorted in pain. I raise a hand to my cheek, and it comes out bloody.

So it wasn't sweat, then.

We need to get out of here before Simo bleeds out. He's going to die and it will be my fault. _My fault._

A piercing pain shoots through my back, and I howl in agony. Something is growing from my back, ripping through my skin. I bend down, touching my head on the ground. Simon shouts my name.

In a final surge of pain, I feel something new. Something… Controllable. A part of my body.

I look back, and I've grown fucking _wings_. They move tentatively, and I realize that I'm the one who's doing the moving.

A miracle.

I grab Simon with all the strength I've got left and shoot up into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We waltzed to some eighties song I can’t remember, but Baz knew all the lyrics to."  
> It was Never Gonna Give You Up
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment if you'd like. I hope you have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> I won't take too long to upload again, I think. The entire fic is pretty much already written, with the exception of the last two or three chapters.
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments! I'd love to hear from you.
> 
> Thank you for reading and have a great day!


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